


Love Like In The Stories

by eruditeprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bellarke, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Musketeers AU, Royalty, Smut, musketeer princess, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruditeprincess/pseuds/eruditeprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is a musketeer and Clarke is the lonely princess going into a marriage she doesn't want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Like In The Stories

**Author's Note:**

> I can write a follow up if people want the wedding/honeymoon. This is a musketeers AU and was written over the course of a few weeks inspired by BBC's The Musketeers. The next post will probably be in February for my birthday. Please comment on this - it makes me happy and inspired and it'd be kinda nice to have a few writing buddies. Kudos are awesome too. As usual, my tumblr is erudite-princess and I own absolutely nothing mentioned.
> 
> Also there's smut.
> 
> Enjoy!

She was sitting on the window seat, the rays of the dying sun illuminating her hair, making the strands shine like spun gold. She turned around, fixing her sapphire eyes on the curly haired visitor to her rooms, who was bowing to her.

"Oh do get up, Bellamy. You aren't yet required to bow to me. I'm not the queen."

"But you are the princess, and as a gentleman I feel like I need to bow to the future queen of France."

"What do you want, Bellamy? I just had some stupid meeting with mère and she is still trying to marry me off to that Spanish idiot, Collins. It is all for France's gain, but I can't marry him," her voice was quiet, full of tiredness, and he felt sorry for her.

"Are you doing anything tonight? Miller, Murphy and I are going to a tavern and while I'm sure the palace is good, the tavern is better. Miller asked if you could come again; apparently you were fun last time we took you. Do you want to sneak out and come, princess?"

"Of course! But what about sneaking out? Now I'm twenty one, mère has increased security around the palace to make sure I'm not kidnapped."

"I'll get Octavia to help you, and I'm sure if Monty and Jasper are around they can work on your security for the night and help you. We hardly ever get to see each other now."

"That's because you're a musketeer and I'm a princess. We aren't in the same social circles."

"Yet I'm here. I'll meet you at nine in the grounds, yes?"

"Yes. I'll see you then."

 

Night fell, and she stared out of the window, waiting for the boy with the mess of curls to appear under her window. She was helped into her dress by Octavia and placed her hair up in a careful mass of golden curls, similar to the fashions of the women of Paris. Her cloak was fastened and she fingered the fleur de lys pendant that hung around her throat, her first gift from Bellamy. She positioned her hood so it wouldn't disturb her hair and was escorted out of the palace by Monty and Jasper, before being given to Bellamy, who took her arm and took her out of the grounds and into Paris.

 

She stared around at the cobbled streets and houses, awed by the beauty of it, as she was every time she got out of the palace. They eventually reached the tavern, being greeted by Murphy and Miller loudly. She grinned at both of them and felt Bellamy squeeze her hand under the table. She used her free hand to reach for the wine they had ordered for her, and took a sip. The fruity taste made her smile, and she felt herself loosen up. They eventually stumbled out of the tavern, the boys laughing and her giggling softly at something Bellamy said. She knew she was drunk and so were the three of them, and Octavia was waiting in the street for them, her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

"Drunk? Again? The queen will one day have your heads, boys. I'll take the princess back home."

"But Octavia," she whined, feeling the gaze of the other girl on her, "I'm having fun. Bellamy can look after me."

"When he is drunk, Princess Clarke, he is about as much use as that Collins from Spain. Come on, let's get home," Octavia began to lead the other girl behind her, who willingly walked along, thinking of what her mother would say, the tone of disdain and the words of _Clarke, really, you're supposed to be responsible, not hanging around with musketeers_.

 

She woke up with a headache. Octavia stood at the window, arranging the drapes to allow in as little light as possible. She sat up and smiled weakly at the other girl, who handed her a glass of water. She fingered the pendant at her throat, pressing her lips to it and letting the cool metal fall over her collarbone. She got up and winced at the movement, before going to her closet and picking out a dress. Octavia helped her do it up and gave her a small plate of food, bread with meat and cheese.

"You shouldn't have gone out last night. I had to lie to the queen and say you were ill to get you out of a meeting about your wedding. They have decided you will marry Collins."

"Why Collins? Why not marry a Frenchman?"

"An alliance with Spain, mademoiselle. I believe it is to ensure an end to the unrest we have with Spain," the girl's tone was gentle.

"May I just be left alone today, Octavia. I need to get over this hangover and do some things."

"Of course, mademoiselle."

 

 

The next day, she felt a lot better and found Bellamy at her door.

"Bellamy! Um, hello. I wasn't expecting a visit."

"Well, I wanted to see you yesterday but Octavia wouldn't let me in. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bellamy," he smiled at her but didn't make a move to leave the room.

"I heard they are marrying you off to Collins."

"Yes. It isn't really what I want but it is the decision of my mère and so I must go through. I have no way out."

"Shame," he said, "you'd be a better queen or princess with someone more suited to you."

"Like who? Mother wants to make sure that I marry a Spaniard so I can end the conflict."

"Like me," he looked down at the floor, his cheeks slightly flushed, and she was taken aback.

"You?" Bellamy looked her in the eye then, and she could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that she might say something bad.

"Yes, me. I mean, I know I'm a musketeer and you're a princess and it would never work, but I've been thinking about this marriage you are having and I can't hold it in any more. I think I love you, Clarke, and I've loved you for a while. You may not return the sentiment, but I thought-" Clarke pressed her lips to his, shushing him quickly. When she pulled away she looked at him, a small smile on her face, as he touched his lips with the pads of his fingers. She kissed his fingers, a playful smile on her face, while running her hands up his thin shirt.

"May I?" he nodded and she began unbuttoning his shirt, occasionally running her fingers up and down new, undiscovered muscle. He looked at the top of her dress, her breasts almost spilling over the fabric keeping it in. Her fleur de lys pendant rested between her breasts and he brought it between his slim fingers, turning it over.

"You kept it," his voice was low and she felt his gaze on her.

"Of course I did. It was from you," she was whispering and she guided his hand to the back of her dress, letting it tug at the laces confining her to it.

"It looks good on you," she peeled the dress off as he said it, leaving her in her underclothes. She slipped off her chemise, letting the soft fabric pool around her feet and leaving her exposed. He began to unlace his trousers, looking into her eyes the entire time, searching for any sign that he should stop. He pulled them and his underwear down, leaving him naked to her. She pulled his hand until they were at the bed, and she pulled him down with her.

 

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Bellamy, I want nothing more in this world than this. I promise you," she smiled at him and he kissed a line down her neck, sucking the top of her shoulder hungrily. He lined himself up with her entrance and pushed into her slowly. She let out a small gasp as he filled her completely, before pulling out and thrusting back in. She moaned quietly, a small moan of his name combined with something he couldn't quite make out. He thrust another time, and her cry echoed throughout her rooms. He felt himself get closer to his release, and she threw her head back in ecstasy. He began moaning out her name until she connected her lips to his. She ground onto him, and he moaned softly. She smiled as they kissed and she saw stars. She felt something warm spurt into her and heard the heavy breathing of the man above her. He pulled out and buried his head in her hair.

"I love you, Clarke."

"I love you too, Bellamy."

 

They lay there for a few more minutes, his head buried in her hair, before she shuffled to lay next to him. He slung his arm around her waist, and she admired his chest, running her fingers lightly across all of his scars. She began to kiss each one, and he smiled down at her. Her lips met his once more, and they fell asleep together, tangled in the sheets.

 

"Mère, I love him."

"Darling, it will never last. We need this alliance with Spain if we are to live in peace." 

"Queen Anne was Spanish and all she did was she ended up having a baby with a musketeer." 

"Clarke, we need this. They need us and we need them." 

"They won't accept an impure princess, will they?" 

"Clarke, you didn't..." 

"I want to marry Bellamy. We may already be expecting a child but if we aren't I want one with him. He would be a good king. He is already a musketeer and would be a king people could trust." 

"I said no." 

"Then I shall elope with him. Either way, I will marry him. Nobody will take an impure woman. Please, mère." 

"If it will please you and be acceptable to him." 

 

He lay there once more, his fingers drawing circles on her hip. She smiled at him and pressed her lips to his, a chaste, almost stolen, kiss. 

"Mère wants us to be married within the year. She also wants you to leave the musketeers." 

"If it means I can be with you, I will." 

"But what of our future? One day we shall be ruling together and I don't want you to have any regrets." 

"My only regret was that I would never tell you how I felt. But we're here now." 

 

"Bellamy?" 

"Hm?" 

"I used to think the stars were the brightest thing in Paris. But now, it's you." 

"I love you Clarke." 

"I love you too." 

 

"Clarke?" 

"Yes?" 

"For our honeymoon, I hear Gascony is a very beautiful place..."


End file.
